


Night Visions

by Rowan-Buzzard-Whitethorn (loopymoony)



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Crossover, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Group Sex, It makes sense if you squint, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Use your imagination, do you really want me to tag every gay thing that happens here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 18:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13059558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loopymoony/pseuds/Rowan-Buzzard-Whitethorn
Summary: @rowaelinsmut prompted: “I want Rowan and Lorcan to somehow end up in Prythian (literally don’t even need to be specific on how it happened, they can just dream it even) and to meet Lucien. And I want Lucien to take them home to his hot pants lover, Rhysand. And I want them to have their way with each other. All four of them. Dream team. Make it explicit. Kinky. I’m ready.”





	Night Visions

“I told you not to touch that statue,” Lorcan said as he spun in a circle on the bridge. 

It seemed to be about six o’clock in the evening instead of midnight. The air smelled like citrus and jasmine instead of wet and rot. And they were most definitely standing on a bridge in the middle of a small city instead of in a dank cave in the middle of nowhere. That’s where they _had_ been, about ten seconds ago. 

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been on Southern continent, you think it looks like this now?” Rowan was surveying the area with the same confused expression as him. When Lorcan looked further down the cobblestones, he saw a male and female walking hand in hand. Except… the female’s skin was iridescent like opal, and had four eyes instead of two. And the male seemed to have scales scattered across his blue-black skin. 

Lorcan grabbed Rowan’s arm and gestured subtly to the couple. “I’m pretty confident that this isn’t the South.”

“Good afternoon,” a lilting voice said behind them. They turned to see a male adjusting a satchel across his chest, smiling at them. The smile pulled at a wicked scar that bisected his left brow, through the eye, and down his cheek. The eye had been replaced by one made of gold, and Lorcan could actually see tiny gears turning as the eye focused between them, scrutinizing. Still, everything about him seemed warm, from the long red hair, to the one russet and one gold eye, to the glowing bronze skin. “Can I help you get to where you’re going?”

They looked at eachother, unsure how to answer. “What is the name of this city?” 

 

* * *

 

Rowan was certain this was a trap but they didn’t have any choice. The stranger had offered them assistance to book passage back to Meah– the first city that popped into his head, and suggested a drink at his home while they waited. Rowan had been expecting guards to appear at any moment and grab them, but after a short walk they did indeed approach the gate of a small but well appointed home. 

When they stepped through the threshold and into foyer, a voice sounded from the living space ahead. “It’s about time fox-boy, I was about to send a search party.” The sound came from a dark haired male sitting with his back to the entryway, lounging lengthwise across a couch. There was a pause, and he was certain that the male had sensed their presence in the room. He smoothly stood and turned to face them. 

“My my Lucien, it appears you found some strays.” He had a small smile on his lips but it was just on the other side of friendly. Rowan’s initial impression of this quaint home was drastically changing, he could smell the power emanating off this new male. 

The redhead– Lucien, casually stepped to the other’s side, crossing his arms. “I thought you might like to give these two a welcome, they’ve never been to this city.” He felt Lorcan inching closer to his daggers.

The dark one kept his eyes trained on them, and Rowan opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Then he tried to move and nothing happened. Lorcan wasn’t moving either. Everything in him was taught as a bowstring, every fiber trying to lunge but to no avail. The male was still smiling at them as he took several steps towards them, his hands casually in his pockets. “I’m sure they’ll want some Night Court hospitality.”

He had his eyes trained on the male… and yet, the next words that he heard were from closed lips. _This is easily the worst attempt I have ever seen against my city._ He was inside his mind. If he was able to shiver, he would have at the sensation of claws _digging_ into some intrinsic part of him. There was an unbearable pressure behind his eyes as he saw flashes of color and memory rush with dizzying speed in his mind. He heard Lorcan’s breath shudder out of him.

The male turned back to Lucien, still completely at ease while Rowan pushed with everything in him to move a single finger. “Apparently, all the spells and wards of generations of High Lords do fuck all against figurines.”

 

* * *

 

He was at a loss at what to do with them.

He searched and searched through their memories and thoughts, sure this was some kind of trap from one of his many enemies. But neither had any memory of...anything he had ever seen. Anyone he had ever known. They didn’t even have mental shields, which any enemy worth their salt was sure to have. And that statue... 

He turned to look at the two of them again. “I’m going to allow you to move again, but I would highly advise against it. I haven’t decided to kill you, yet.” He released them and they both took a staggered step forward. “Oh, and you won’t be needing your weapons here.” With a snap of his fingers he sent their swords and daggers away. They both glared but remained silent, clearly unsure how to react in a situation where their extensive muscular was of no use.

Lucien stepped up next to him, still staring at him, waiting for a better explanation. “ _It would seem,_ that they are both from a completely different land. I have no idea where it is, but neither of them even know how they got here.” Lucien’s brows shot up. He gestured to the angrier looking male– Lorcan. “This one is practically as old as me, and apparently has some type of… death… power?” Lorcan scowled. He looked in tattooed male’s direction. Rowan. “And this one can manipulate ice and wind. He’d probably get along great in the Winter Court. Oh, he also turns into a bird.” Lucien snorted.

“Winter Court?” Rowan asked, the inquisitive one of the two.

It was Lucien who answered. “This land is divided into courts, the Winter Court is perpetually cold and snow-covered thanks in part to the High Lord that rules it. I hail originally from the Autumn Court.” Rhys glared at him, not entirely thrilled with sharing _any_ information with these strangers.

Lorcan watched them skeptically. “So what court is this?”

Rhys straightened, intent on staking his claim. “I am High Lord of the Night Court.”

Rowan and Lorcan exchanged a look, before leaning to glance out the window to the setting sun, then back at him. Rhys restrained from rolling his eyes. “It’s a symbolic title.”

“Symbolic for what?”

Rhys engulfed the room in darkness, causing Rowan and Lorcan to reach for their disappeared weapons. He vanished the shadows and looked between them, crossing his arms. They were a problem, but he also knew that despite their dangerous appearance, the main thing they wanted was to find a way home. Not to mention that they may have information useful to him.

“The way I see it, I only have two options. Kill you, or take you out tonight.”

 

* * *

 

Lorcan had found it completely and utterly impossible to relax for the first several hours of the night. The fact that they had no idea how to return to their land weighed heavily on him, and the powers and magics of this land were foreign to him; it left him itching for his weapons.

This ‘Rhysand’ had taken them to a restaurant which, he had to admit, had unfairly delicious food. Rowan had held up their side of the conversation until Rhys had leaned over to Lucien, looking at him conspiratorially. He said in a loud whisper, “Doesn’t he remind you of Cassian? You know, if Cassian pouted more?” Rowan had thrown his head back and laughed, asking about the male. 

One thing had led to another, and they began sharing stories of battles. Victories, losses, injuries. As Lorcan drank more of his wine, he begrudgingly admitted that the atmosphere and the company wasn’t _too_ horrible. Even if Rhys seemed constantly one smirk away from flinging out peacock feathers behind him and parading down the street.

When the meal was over, Rhys had declared that he and Rowan desperately needed “more excitement” in their lives, and dragged them to an establishment called Rita’s. It was _loud_. And unlike anything Lorcan had ever seen. He had heard music but not like this. Instruments he’d never seen before congregated in the corner, and several steps above the musicians sat several enormous drums that filled the space with relentless pounding beats that set everything vibrating. And he’d seen dancing before but _definitely_ nothing like this. 

They sat in a booth far enough away from all the dancing to hear each other, barely. He was still trying to assess Rhys and Lucien. He was certain that they were intimately involved, but he could tell they both had their fair share of secrets. He had _almost_ had enough drinks to stop caring about their secrets, about how to get home, all of it. It was as if this land’s alcohol and strange music were lulling him into a false sense of security. 

His eye caught on Lucien’s hair again. He was willing to admit that it was pleasant to look at. It looked soft, and Lucien had a habit of bringing the long strands over one shoulder as he talked. His face also had a way of grabbing his attention. Elegant lines with strong cheekbones and full lips. He wanted to know where he got that eye as well. 

“The red hair is spectacular, isn’t it?”

Lorcan looked to Rhys, scowling at his smirk. “I was admiring the eye.”

“There’s plenty to admire about him.”

Lorcan risked a look out of the corner of his eye and saw that Lucien was looking at Rhys with an expression that said _I know what you’re doing._

Lorcan _didn’t_ know what Rhys was doing until he added, “You should see him dance.” Lorcan’s head snapped back to the dance floor, it was looking particularly crowded now.

Lucien said to Rhys, “you know, I’m perfectly capable of finding my own dance partners. Especially since all you ever want to do is drink.”

Rhys’ smile widened. “Yes, but you know that’s because I love to watch.”

Rowan finally piped up. “You don’t want to offend our host, do you?” But he was hiding a smile behind his glass. 

Lorcan had turned to him with a completely flat expression when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Lucien was suddenly standing next to him. “Come, I’ll show you.”

He was about to refuse when Rowan shoved him out of the booth, laughing.

He found himself ushered to the dance floor, Lucien gripping his hand and dragging him along. They made it to the center of sweaty bodies and Lorcan stood awkwardly, utterly uncoordinated when it comes to keeping up with a beat and Lucien began basically dancing around him. Bodies press into him from all sides, and it seemed that the fast beat of this particular song meant that most people simply bounced around against each other. 

Lucien is now in front of him, just short enough for Lorcan to look down his nose at him, but Lucien just presses in closer and turns around. Suddenly, he’s pressed close enough for Lorcan to feel him from back to ass, and Lucien sways against him before reaching behind him to place Lorcan’s hands against his hips. Then he _grinds_ against him and Lorcan feels his hands tighten reflexively. He realizes that almost everyone around him is similarly connected. It’s a heady sensation and he begins to think this music might not be that bad. 

Lorcan is trying and failing to keep Lucien from feeling his dick harden in his pants when he hears Rhys’ voice in his head and whips his head around to try to see him across the dance floor. He can barely find him through the swarm of bodies, still sitting in the booth next to Rowan. 

_He likes it when you smack his ass._

Lorcan turned back to look at the damp red hair below him and then back at Rhys. He subconsciously slides his hands lower on Lucien’s hips. He watches, almost like his body is betraying him, as his hand pulls back and then connects with Lucien’s round cheek, the sound lost with the beat. 

Lucien tilts his head up to Lorcan. He laughs just loud enough for Lorcan to hear over the noise. “Now you’re getting it.” He lifts one arm behind him, able to hook it around Lorcan’s neck so his head can bend over Lucien’s shoulder. With a smooth grind, Lucien is able to slide Lorcan’s hardening cock right between his cheeks. He looks over to Rowan and finds him watching with rapt interest. He sees the territorial beast in his rigid posture but he also sees undeniable heat. While continually glancing back at the table, Lorcan feels his hands begin to wander.

 

* * *

 

He wanted to grab Lorcan and drag him out of here, preferably by his hair. But he also can’t move from this spot, his drink actually frozen on it’s path to his mouth. His eyes don’t know where to fix, on the hand loosely gripping Lucien’s throat, on their hips which are pressed so close together, or Lorcan’s eyes that are now glued to his. 

Rhys sets his hand high up on Rowan’s thigh and its only then that he realizes that he’s half hard in his pants. More than half hard. He looks at the hand, then back at Rhys, who’s now much closer than before. He leans in and puts his mouth right against Rowan’s ear and speaks above the music. “What’s your position on sharing?”

Rowan pulls back, sharing a long, charged look with Rhys. Then he leans into his ear and says “we’ve never…” he trails off but Rhys pulls back and this time the words are in his mind. _Would you like to?_

He’s absolutely certain that this is a bad idea. It goes against every instinct to open himself up for these strangers in an unknown land. But whether it’s the alcohol or the strange atmosphere or just plain old arousal, he covers Rhys’ hand on his thigh and moves it up to slide against his erection. Rhys’ grin widens. He looks over to the dance floor and Rowan knows he’s speaking mind to mind with Lucien because he throws his head back and laughs before grabbing Lorcan’s hand once more and returning to the table.

They stand up from the booth and Rowan and catches Lorcan off guard by grabbing him behind the neck and pulling him close in a brutal, biting kiss. After a moment, Lorcan pulls away enough to stare at him. 

“Jealous? Or did you enjoy the show?”

Rowan looks at him from lowered brows, adding weight to his next words. “We’ve been invited back to the High Lord’s home.” Lorcan tries to suppress his delighted surprise, but his eyes are alight. 

“Lead the way, prince.”

 

* * *

 

The walk back to the townhouse was excruciating for Lucien. The tension was unbearable. They’d done this type of thing before but these two were… different. There was far too much male power in this group. It wasn’t helped at all by the fact that Rhys kept a running monologue in his mind, saying what filthy things he wanted to see the two males do to him. Shooting images into his head of Rhys relaxing in a chair in the corner while the other two held him down and took turns fucking him, using him. He was slowing down again, his feet stuttering on the pavement from the distraction when he was thrust back into reality to hear snarls behind him.

He turned in time to see that Rowan had Rhys pinned to a brick wall, his forearm to his throat as he forced his tongue into his mouth. He pulled back and growled in Rhys’ face. 

“Get the fuck out of my head.” 

He hadn’t been alone in enduring Rhys’ torment, then. 

Rhys just leaned in a fraction of an inch and brushed his lips against Rowan’s. “You’ll get your taste soon enough dear, we’re almost there.” 

He pat Rowan’s face, hard, and easily brushed past him to continue strolling down the street. 

When they finally do enter the townhouse, Rhys leads them all upstairs to their room. Lucien is crossing the threshold when he feels Lorcan right on his heels, pushing him into the room. He grabs Lucien by the bicep and shoves him against the cool wall, wasting no time in pressing his lips and teeth and tongue into Lucien’s mouth. 

Lorcan’s mouth begins to slide down to his neck only to jerk his head away instead. Lucien just smiles because he knows what Lorcan has realized. The entire wall they’re leaning against is a huge mirror. Lorcan lets out a bark of laughter before something in the reflection catches his attention. Lucien peeks around Lorcan’s shoulder and sees Rowan and Rhys standing at the foot of the bed tearing each other’s clothes off. They don’t speak and they don’t kiss. It looks like a fight, both using their hands like talons and claws, getting the other naked as quickly as possible. Lorcan grabs Lucien’s face and pulls it back to his mouth.

He’s clawing at Lorcan’s back underneath his loose shirt when he hears Rhys call out to him. 

“Hey Red, don’t forget the rule.” 

Lucien pushes with both hands against Lorcan's chest and growls in pure exasperation. “ _You’re kidding me right?_ ”

 

* * *

 

Rhys just laughs, knowing full well the torture he’s going to put poor Lucien through. 

“You know what happens if you break the rules,” he says in mock warning, utterly amused. 

Lucien groans, the sound of the long suffering. Rowan and Lorcan look back and forth between them. 

“Oh!” Rhys says, feigning surprise. “He has to come last.” 

Rowan is the one who laughs, surprisingly, considering Rhys’ overall impression of the male is that he’s about as stoic and repressed as they come.  

Lorcan gives Lucien a long, thorough once-over. “This is going to be fun.”

Rhys returns his focus to Rowan and pushes his shoulders to have him sit on the edge of the bed. Rowan resumes his mission to throw every scrap of Rhys’ clothing across the room. His attempt at composure is admirable, but Rhys has far more practice. Rhys just rests his hands on his hips, enjoying the view from above as Rowan’s eyes betray his desperation. When he gets his trousers loose enough to grab a handful of material and jerk them down, Rhys’ cock immediately springs forward. Rowan is distracted enough that he leaves the pants around Rhys’ thighs and wraps his large hand around his length, squeezing hard. Rhys pushes his pants down the rest of the way and kicks them behind him. Rowan looks up and just stares him, his tattoo eating up the soft glow from the lanterns in the corner of his bedroom. 

They’re both distracted when the bed violently shakes as Lorcan literally _throws_ Lucien onto the mattress.

Rhys can’t contain his laughter and Rowan turns back to gaze at him again. “He has a thing for long hair.” 

Rowan wraps his lips around the tip of him and Rhys can’t help but agree with Lorcan, grabbing a handful of silver hair from the loose knot at the base of Rowan’s skull. He has the distinct impression that Rowan thinks he’s the one in control in this scenario. So, instead of using his leverage to thrust into his mouth, he pushes on Rowan’s shoulders to lean him back. Rowan complies and Rhys hides his smile. He pulls off the last of Rowan’s clothing and pushes his legs up and back. 

“Hold these for me will you.” 

Rowan grabs the back of his thighs, presenting him fully to Rhys’ gaze. He ignores his cock completely and places a hand on either ass cheek to spread him wide, diving in tongue first to circle around his bud.

Rowan closes his eyes and groans, removing one hand from his leg to fist Rhys’ short hair between his knuckles. 

Rhys’ tongue dives deeper and deeper in the heat of his ass with each pass. When he pulls back for a moment, Rowan lifts his head to watch as Rhys sticks two fingers deep into his mouth, coating them in saliva. He puts a knee on the mattress, bending over Rowan to kiss him deeply right as he swiftly slides both fingers in, making Rowan hiss in a breath at the sudden intrusion. 

Rhys bends to Rowan’s ear, close enough that his lips graze the shell with each word. “You’re going to be a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

Rowan tenses and growls. “Not a chance.” 

He flips them in a neat move, pinning Rhys’ arms above his head. “You know I could easily get out of this, right?” 

“I think you’re provoking me on purpose so I’ll fuck you hard and fast.”  

Rhys lets out a breathless chuckle. “Fine. Bedside table.” 

Rowan rounds the bed and grabs the bottle there, tossing it next to him while he straddles Rhys’ lap. He grinds hard into him, groaning as their cocks press against each other. He bites and licks his way down Rhys’ chest, biting hard enough at one nipple to make him grab a fistful of hair and yank in retaliation.

When Rowan makes his way down, he pumps quickly at his shaft while his mouth trails to his sack, taking one globe into his mouth and rolling it around his tongue. Rhys throws his head back to growl out a _fuck_ when he finally sees what the other two have been doing while he’s been occupied. Lorcan is straddling Lucien’s chest, gripping his head with both hands as he fucks his mouth roughly. Rhys can’t help but be captivated by the sight– watching Lorcan’s ass flex with each thrust, following the path of spit running down Lucien’s chin. Lorcan makes the most delicious sounds as he enjoys his lover. Somewhere between a grunt and a growl, his eyes boring into Lucien’s.

The enticing scene behind him is superseded by the sensation of wet fingers probing his entrance. Rowan has one hand on the center of his chest, his focus fully devoted to his task. Rhys widens his legs further as Rowan pushes in, aiding his questing fingers as they scissor and bend inside him. When he can’t stand it anymore, he moans, “yes, I’m ready.”

Rowan replaces his hand with his cock, the thickness making Rhys’ eyes glaze as Rowan leans forward to brace his palms beside his head. He cups his hand around Rowan’s neck and pulls him in close, biting his lower lip and pulling. Rowan sounds even more exquisite, his moans deep and agonized, like he’s never done this before even though he clearly knows what he’s doing.  

In the haze of his lust, he’s able to make out all the other sounds emanating around him. The smack of Rowan’s balls against his ass with each rough thrust, his own ragged breaths and sharp moans. He looks over again when he hears Lucien’s higher pitched moan echo through the room. Lorcan had put a pillow under him and had one of Lucien’s legs spread wide, holding it down with one palm while he curled his arm around the other leg, pressing it close to his chest so that Lucien’s calf rested on his shoulder. Lucien’s neglected cock bounces against his stomach with each thrust.  

Rhys could never get enough of Lucien’s moans. They always sounded right on the cusp between pleasure and torture– even when you _weren’t_ torturing him. He reached up and took Lucien’s hand, squeezing it tightly and pressing an open mouthed kiss to the back. Lorcan kept grinding and thrusting, always maintaining a depth that kept Lucien’s breathing ragged and desperate.

 

* * *

 

The heat of Lucien’s ass was driving him insane– it was scorching. Lorcan wanted to bury himself deep and just sit there and feel how Lucien can’t help but continue to squeeze his hole around him in fevered pulses. But he can’t even look at Lucien’s face right now, too busy watching Rowan fuck Rhys, his hands on either side of Rhys’ chest, his mouth hanging open to pant out groans and grunts. He loves that he can hear Rowan's sack slap against Rhys’ ass with each powerful thrust. Rowan always likes to pull out almost all the way before surging back in. 

He tears his gaze away to look below him. He sees that Lucien’s cock is flushed a deep red. He removes the hand from his thigh to stroke him, but his fingers barely brush him before Lucien pushes him away.

_“Don’t_. I can’t. I’ll come.”

“Maybe I want to see what punishment you get.”

Lucien attempts to laugh but doesn’t have the energy, simply releasing a huff of air instead. Lorcan decides to take mercy on him as he remembers something. He crawls across the bed over to the other side, easily grabbing Lucien by the ankle to spin him around. It’s not that Lucien doesn’t have his own strength to him, but compared to the other three his build is focused much more in sinewy, lean muscle rather than bulk. He flips Lucien and puts him on hands and knees. Yes, this is much better. Now they’re facing the mirror. 

He pulls Lucien’s hips towards him and easily slides back in. Then he reaches around to grab Lucien’s throat to lift his head up so he can watch, too. Can watch as his body is jerked forward with every harsh movement, can see the way his own cock bobs between his legs. He should have done this from the start. His senses are on overdrive, and it doesn’t take long before his body gives in to the cresting wave, seating himself fully into Lucien’s ass to come deep inside him.

 

* * *

 

Lucien collapses on the bed, trying to slow his breathing. He crawls closer to Rhys, looking down at him before kissing his mouth sloppily, unable to get a good hold on his lips due to Rowan’s constant thrusts. 

He has his ass still in the air and jerks his head back in surprise. The feeling of Lorcan’s tongue against his sensitive flesh is almost too much to bear, as is the knowledge that he’s licking his own cum as it leaks out of him, dragging his tongue up his seam. It takes every ounce of willpower to bury his head in Rhys’ neck and bite down hard enough to distract himself.

Rowan’s speed becomes punishing enough that Lucien is forced to lift his head and watch as he finally jerks to a stop, grunting out his release, loose hairs hanging in his face. He falls to his elbows before twining his tongue with Rhys’ again.

When they break apart, Rowan grabs Rhys’ shaft and pumps, but Rhys stills his hand with his own.

“As much as I love your hand on me, I’m far too close.” He gestures up to Lucien. “And I want all three of us to fill him up by the end of the night.” 

Lucien hangs his head and groans. “You’re trying to kill me.” 

“You love it.” He pats his lap with both hands. “Now be a good boy and sit.” 

He’s practically shaking, his breath constantly uneven as he takes his position and lowers himself onto Rhys. Lucien hovers over him with his hands to his chest as Rhys grabs his hips and thrusts up, setting an efficient pace that he knows will make Rhys come soon.

Lucien lifts his gaze to watch Lorcan and Rowan reunite. They sit on the bed with their legs tangled together, their tongues gliding and hands roaming in such a way that Lucien is tempted to feel as though he’s interrupting a private moment– before promptly realizing that that’s the most ridiculous thought he’s had all evening. Their hands take their time gliding and grabbing before they reach down to grip each other, stroking the other back to hardness. 

Lucien looks back down and presses his cheek to Rhys’, able to speak close to his ear. “I love the way you fill me up.” Rhys moans, squeezing his hips with bruising strength before he feels the heat of Rhys’ cum as it fills him up. He collapses and rolls over, aching everywhere with the tension and desperation of forcing himself not to touch his cock. If he didn’t have experience in denial, he’d have come already and been unable to stop it. But it’s never easy. And Rhys wants three loads inside him.

That was two. 

Lucien is gripping the hair at the top of his scalp with both hands when he hears Rhys call to Rowan.

 

* * *

 

When Rowan rests his weight against Lucien’s frame, their bodies aligned, they stare at each other for a long moment. He brushes his hands tenderly across Lucien's face, smoothing his hair. When their lips meet, its almost tender– exploratory. Lucien squeezes his legs tighter around his waist. He can hear Lorcan and Rhys speaking in hushed tones but he can’t hear what they say. He lifts up on one palm to reach down and enter Lucien, unable to hold back the long moan at the hot, soaked heat of him. His dick slides in perfectly smooth, and when their hips meet the wetness surrounding his ass slicks his skin even more. 

Rhys comes over to kneel above Lucien’s head, grabbing his arms to pull them up and pin them together with one hand against both wrists. He leans in and presses open mouthed kisses against Lucien’s throat while whispering in his ear. In his state of distraction, he’s only able to pick up fragments of filthy words uttered with absolute smoothness. 

He’s grinding into Lucien when he feels Lorcan trail his fingertips down his back, making him shiver. When his hand goes all the way down, he glides the back of his fingers up against Rowan’s balls, pressing on the sensitive space between his sack and entrance.

His fingers disappear for a moment, before coming back nice and slick. He gets two fingers in, and Rowan’s rhythm falters when Lorcan pushes those two fingers up, _hard_ into that spot inside him. _Fuck._ Lorcan replaces his fingers with his length and Rowan desperately tries to reorder his brain into accepting both of the pressure inside him and the heat surrounding his cock. The twin sensations rob every scrap of his attention.

Lorcan’s first thrust pushes his own hips deeper into Lucien. The feeling is indescribable. His eyes can’t seem to focus. He’s reduced to ragged breaths followed by low growls followed by _oh shits_ and _oh fucks_. He’s somehow able to send the signal to his muscles to start some kind of rhythm, and soon Lorcan and Rowan’s thrusts are working in tandem.

His brain finally catches up to the rest of the sounds in the room. Lorcan’s grunts behind him and Lucien’s desperate voice below him– repeating variations of the same whine, his eyes intently on Rhys. 

“Please let me come. Oh _fuck_. I can’t hold on. Rhys, godsdamnit. _Please_.” 

Rhys keeps one hand on Lucien’s wrists, the other stroking his own cock in hurried, efficient strokes. 

“Little Lucien, I’m going to use my cum to get you off. So soon, baby. Just a little longer.” 

Lucien is practically sobbing when Rhys lets out a relieved and exhausted groan, splashing ropes of white against Lucien’s chest and stomach, very nearly touching Lucien’s cock.

It’s enough. It’s more than enough. Rowan couldn’t hold on any longer if he tried. He feels his balls draw up close to his body and looks down to watch his dick pulse with rhythmic throbs along the prominent veins. He’s still coming when he hears Lorcan hiss in his ear: _yes, yes, yes_ – before the heat of his release fills him. Rowan’s eyes flit to Lucien’s stomach as Rhys indeed glides his hand across Lucien’s slick skin and grips his cock, immediately starting at a punishing speed.  

“Come, now. Come for me.” 

Lucien _screams_ – his mouth wide open, his expression like he’s in absolute agony, before Rowan can feel the muscles around him contract and milk him as Lucien comes.

He closes his eyes, feeling Lorcan’s hot breath against his back as he leans his forehead against his shoulder. They collapse sideways, Lorcan’s leg draped over his hip. When he’s able to open his eyes he sees that Rhys is wiping off Lucien’s body in adoring, gentle strokes, occasionally placing the tenderest of kiss across his skin. 

They lay there, in a tangled heap in all directions across the huge bed, enjoying the quiet and the soft light emanating from the moon and bright stars of this land. It’s not long at all before Rowan feels his eyes droop, feeling his body sink into the mattress before falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

⁂

 

His eyes are slow to open, feeling as if they are stuck together. He aches. Everywhere. He groans as he rolls and sees Lorcan beside him, but when his hand pushes himself up he realizes that instead of silken sheets he feels hard stone. Instead of jasmine– the smell of this dank cavern. 

“Lorcan”, he rasps, surprised at the roughness in his voice. In answer he gets a loud groan, Lorcan rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. 

“Rhys, you better have food, I’m starving.” 

“Lorcan.” Rowan’s voice is more stern this time. Lorcan looks over at him and Rowan watches as everything click in his eyes. 

“Oh.” Lorcan’s says, clearly disappointed. 

They both stand, surveying themselves and their surroundings. Both their gazes land on the stone pillar at the same time. They turn to each other, a slight smile tugging at their lips. 

“We could take it with us.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

Lorcan shrugs. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Rowan just rolls his eyes, but he takes off his jacket and very, very carefully wraps the small statue up and puts it in his pack. When he turns back around, Lorcan looks far too mischievous. 

“I'm not saying we're going to use it.”

Lorcan laughs. “Whatever you say.”

They are silent for a moment as they head for the entrance to the cave. Lorcan speaks first. 

“Hey, why do you think the statue has wings?”

 


End file.
